Pre-Chapter A/N:Hey everyone, I am so sorry about the sudden hiatus. I realise now that I never did post on here about why I was going on hiatus. So I had my final exams last week and since you can see this, you can tell that I survived. Happy to be back and hopefully better than ever. If you haven't already, I recommend turning on notifications for my stuff so you can see when new stuff drops right as it drops. More chapters on my patreon(https://www.patreon.com/c/Oghenevwogaga)— same username as here and link in bio
Whatever plans the other Kingdoms had made for the melee had been abandoned very early on in the chaos as they turned on their horses and rushed at the Stormlands almost as one. Instead of staying to absorb the blow and trying to push out from beneath the onslaught of hundreds of Knights, Borros did the smart thing. Or maybe he just did what he would always have done regardless and it just happened to be the smart thing in this situation. With Borros, it was near impossible to tell.
He ordered a charge, and as the other realms rushed us, we rushed them in turn. The chaos must have been glorious from Borros' perspective. He laughed at the top of his voice as he deflected an attack from a Marbrand while riding down a Royce. My first opponent had a set of towers united by a bridge— blue on grey on his surcoat.
He saluted with his sword and spurred his horse forward. A Frey hoping to make a name for himself by taking out a Dragonlord. I pulled at the bond Igneel and I shared as we clashed blades.
In one swing, I had sent his sword flying from his grip, and by the next, my sword was at his neck.
"Yield," he barely managed to squeak out. I nodded as he tossed a piece of cloth my way. I turned to my next opponent as I heard hooves behind me, only to find that Ben had made it first and was dueling one of the many Lannister cousins that had come for the tourney.
I turned to find a Tyrell and a Fossoway to either side. It was to the red apple I went first.
"Cider hall or new barrel?" I asked as my horse approached his.
"I can never quite remember which one of you was the green apple and which one the red," I said with a smirk.
"Not like it matters much though," I finished off.
He gave me a bored look like my attempt to rile him up was thoroughly beneath his notice.
"Most people come up with better insults," he responded, and then our horses began to circle each other.
"Well met, good Ser. Ser Laenor Velaryon," I said, offering an introduction.
"No one would mistake the Seahorse or the silver hair peaking out from that helmet for anything else. And even if we did, your cousin did a good enough job making sure we all know who you are," he said with a tone that just bordered on the edge of sarcastic.
I swung first, and he blocked it with his shield, not showing any discomfort at my dragon-enhanced strength— admittedly, I had been using only a tiny bit. We continued to circle each other then, before he attacked first now. I deflected the blade with my own, and then spurred my horse forward, forcing his to give ground or lose balance. Our blades clashed thrice more, but now with me thoroughly in the driver's seat.
It was only a matter of time and we both knew it. So was I surprised when he decided to do something drastic to regain the advantage? No. In fact I had been waiting for it. His desperate stab towards my legs was a feint, and I didn't even react until he moved the blade away and brought it up towards my head. I deflected the sword with all my strength. He managed to keep his sword in his grasp, but his entire hand was sent flying off to the side.
I brought my shield over, slamming it into him, and forcing him off his horse.
"I yield," I heard him say from the floor, meaning I had no need to run him down. The piece of cloth he tossed my way joined the one from the Frey knight against my belt. I turned to see Borros was now fighting against the Crakehall he had insulted earlier. He was the one man here who could give Borros a run for his money when it came to sheer muscularity.
So I turned to find my next target, only to be found instead.
"Ser Velaryon." Criston Cole of the Kingsguard saluted me from his position opposite me. Around his waist were five pieces of cloth already. How long had this melee even been going on for?
"Ser Cole. A surprise to see you made it all the way here," I said, turning to see the rest of the Kingsguard were some distance away, fending off all challengers. Between them and him was a line of disappointed Knights leaving the field. The conclusion was an easy one to make. He had made a bee line straight for me once the melee had begun. And with what I know about the true relationship between him and his charge, I could hazard a few guesses as to why.
"Took a ride out on my own and just happened to end up here. What do you say, Velaryon?" he said, banging his sword against his shield. It was a ruder version of the standard salute, but still adequate. I nodded, pulling at the bond between Igneel and I to enhance myself as much as I could. Something told me this would not be easy.
His blade almost sent my head ringing. I tilted my head backwards, keeping atop my horse with unnatural balance as it turned somewhat abruptly.
I used the momentum of the turn to aim my own sword his way. It was deflected with contemptuous ease. That was the last direct attack I attempted for some time, as he took charge of the duel not long after. I thought I was fast and skilled. Cole seemed to have me beat in both as his blade rained down at me from a million angles at once. I remained ahead, but it was taking all my attention because even as he did things with his blade that most would struggle to replicate or even understand, he kept his horse moving, changing directions abruptly to catch me off guard.
I kept pace, moving my horse with every movement of his and working to deflect every stab or slash. We must have appeared to all who watched as a storm of steel and sound as our blades kissed each other over and over again. All the world disappeared as I honed in on this one moment.
He came from the left, I turned my shield, sending the attack skidding off of it before I slashed out with all my strength. He moved his horse backwards, allowing my slash to hit nothing but air, and then the horn blasted to signal the end of the melee. I narrowly managed to stop myself from following through with my next movement.
"I shall see you on the morrow then, Ser Velaryon. I hope you joust as well as you fight," Cole said, and then was off. I turned, finally getting the chance to look around me and noted that the field was near empty. The first round of the melee was scheduled to end with twenty fighters still on the field. The five Kingsguard— including Cole— who had taken to the field remained in the running. So was Borros, of course. Ser Ben had several pieces of cloth around his waist but seemed to be nursing some sort of wound. He was still in the running though.
The rest seemed to be an even split among the remaining Kingdoms. Stormlanders, Northerners, Valemen, Reachmen, and the Westerlanders were all represented. Even the Crownlands technically with Ben and I here.
"Good fighting. I could have sworn it was over for you when I saw Cole arrive," Ser Ben said to me in a whisper as we turned away and began to leave the paddock after being announced as the finalists of the melee.
"Oh ye of little faith," I scoffed back.
"I have more faith in you than anyone else, my Lord. But Cole is different. He cuts through men before they even manage to know what is going on most of the time. He spent most of the melee dueling you and yet has as many eliminations as I do. He's a freak of nature, and for some reason, he wants to face you and just you," he said.
"It wasn't all in my head, then? He did come straight for me once it started?"
"I had a better view of it, yes. He left his brothers and advanced straight in your direction. No one managed to delay him for more than a few seconds as he came. Would have tried to get in the middle of the two of you but he was much too fast for me to anticipate. One second he was all the way over there, and the next time I look over, the two of you are already clashing blades. I apologise for failing you, my lord," Ben said.
"It's a melee, Ben. I came here to fight and be fought, not to hide behind you. During the finals, Cole will come for me again. Don't get in his way," I ordered. No response.
"Am I clear, Ser?" I pressed.
"Yes, my lord," he said finally.
XXXXXXX
Well, this one was just a bit more lively than Yesterday's, I thought to myself as I stared down at the feasting lords and Knights from my position on the royal table. In a move that I was not sure was entirely wise, Viserys had invited both Houses Velaryon and Hightower to join him on the head table, atop the raised dais, watching over the hall. It was a statement whether he knew it or not.
House Hightower made sense. Alicent was his wife, no matter what people thought of his refusal to name her eldest as his official heir. It made sense that her House was given pride of place. But she sat at his left hand side, the rest of her house doing so as well. To his right sat Rhaenyra, and next to Rhaenyra was Mother, and then me, and then Laena. House Velaryon sat at the right hand side of the King. It was pride of place.
And we had done nothing to earn it as far as the realm was concerned. Maybe if a betrothal to Rhaenyra for me had been announced then it would probably have made more sense. But as no such thing had happened, we were being elevated to the same level as the royal family with no just cause. It was a sign of our influence and could probably give us a bit more weight to toss about in negotiations with other houses as it was now clear that we enjoyed the absolute maximum possible royal favour. But on the other hand, it was a target being placed on our backs.
I had no doubts that Houses Lannister, Tyrell, maybe even Tully, and Stark were looking at what we had and coveting it for themselves. If the Velaryons can ride dragons, why can we not? Mother said three of the four— I'd give you two guesses as to which three— had already written to the King with betrothal proposals, each of them offering to make Aemond a great lord in their realms for the low, low price of marrying their daughters. They weren't the only ones of course. Everyone could see the value of marrying a Targaryen into the family. And it was telling that the dowries they offered for Aemond's hand were even larger than what had been offered for Aegon.
A Queen was valuable, yes, but they all wanted what House Velaryon had more than they wanted a Queen. They wanted dragons of their own. In short, they wanted to sit above the rest of the realm just like we did— both physically considering the raised dais, and metaphorically considering our social status.
The tone of the music shifted as the tables began to be pushed away. Time for the dance then? I turned to Laena to find her already watching me expectantly.
"May I accompany you on the dance floor, my lady?" I asked her, receiving a smile that could have blotted out the sun with its radiance in response.
"I thought you'd never ask," she said, placing her hand in mine. I led her down the dais before we began to twirl along the floor to the tune of the Dragon and his Queen. It was one of the older songs in the Targaryen reign, about Aegon and the love he had for Westeros. A song that mocked the Dornish, was romantic and catchy. All the things that could get the Westerosi nobility in a boisterous mood.
So it was no surprise that there was a universal call for an encore when the song reached its end. Smiling, I spun Laena around again for the second dance. Now the floor was far more populated. The King had deigned to come down from his throne, and he led his wife around the floor with middling competence. He was an okay dancer— trained for it, yes, but not so good as to be distinguished for it.
The Princess Rhaenyra had her face pursed into what wasn't even vaguely going to be mistaken for an authentic smile by anyone with eyes as Gwayne Hightower led her around the floor. It had probably been rude for her to refuse and so she found herself stuck. I turned back to the rest of the field before Laena could notice where my attention had strayed. I had no illusions that all her seeming good mood could crash in a second if I triggered that jealousy that I had not been able to anticipate.
I twirled Laena around and spied Mother being led about by Borros. My cousin was a passable dancer, and what he lacked in raw pure skill, he made up with boisterousness. It was clear that of everyone, he was having the most fun. If he wasn't the absolute first in that metric, then he was definitely in the top three. All the other contenders also happened to be far drunker than he seemed. Knowing Borros, it was likely that he'd drank more than they all had.
"How are you feeling?" Laena's voice drew me back to her. To the present, to the warmth of her body pressed against mine in a way that would have been scandalous had we not been siblings.
"Fine enough. Why are you asking?"
"You've been in your head all night. Nervous about tomorrow?" she asked, stumping me somewhat.
"The joust? Of course not. Haven't even thought about that in a minute," I said, and that was the truth, even though she gave me a doubtful look. How could I explain to her that my main goal was to perform adequately, a fact that was guaranteed by Igneel's willingness to lend me his power when I faced others on the field. Sure, there was a chance I could lose to a skilled enough Knight, but there was no shame in losing to someone of that quality. This was literally my first joust. As long as I lost out to either a Great Lord, a storied Knight, or one of the Kingsguard, then I would come out of this with a net gain.
"Uh huh," she said, giving me a look that said she didn't quite believe me. Time to change the subject then.
"Do you not find it fascinating?"
"What?"
"All these houses. Barely more than a century ago, no one would imagine them all being under the same roof. Dancing even. We have lords of the Stormlands, the Reach, and the Riverlands here and no one has lost a limb yet. Even the Lords of that frozen wasteland managed to stir up and come here. This feast is a testament to what Aegon achieved more than anything else. Not just him, but Jaehaerys, even Viserys after him. Targaryen dominance made manifest," I said into her ear.
"And what does that matter to you? We're Velaryons. Unless you're planning something," she said, and I sensed the landmine immediately. She still didn't believe I didn't want the Kingdoms for myself.
"Indeed we are. A strong and united Westeros helps us even if we never rule it. Peace is far more profitable than war for us. During times of peace and harmony, people have more gold to spend towards luxuries. Our glass, our woodworks, our pleasure barges, all things that we'd sell more of during times of peace than if war broke out," I said.
"And you're mentioning this now, why? It's not like the realm has been at war in our lifetimes. Peace is all we have ever known," she said.
"Exactly. And if peace is all we ever know, then we forget the horrors of war. What it can do to us, both in terms of our bottom line and in other ways. And you see the shadows of it. Notice how the Reach delegation has fallen into two distinct camps— one under the Hightowers, and one under Luthor Tyrell. Notice how the first of those camps is ingraining itself with the Westerland lords. Notice how the Stormlords and the Northerners keep to themselves while the Riverlands try to court the Valemen," I said.
"Alliances are forming," she surmised.
"You think a war is coming."
"I think we are due for one. I thought it would be a single cause thing, a war caused by those at the top, but now that I look at things, maybe it truly is inevitable."
"You've lost me now. You're watching Houses drink and dance and somehow concluding a war will come from it?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at me.
"You're right. I'm overthinking things," I said with a smile, before I tapped my nose and twirled her around again as the tune changed. The band had turned to playing the Folly of Black Harren.
A/N: Laenor looks at the realm and thinks war is inevitable. Is he right? Who knows. But in this story, one thing is for sure— the Dance will not come out of nowhere and the show's execution of the main warmongers turning out to be victims of their camps' enthusiasm (a la both Rhaenyra and Alicent suing for peace until the last second) will be far from the case. Next six chapters up on patreon(https://www.patreon.com/c/Oghenevwogaga) (same username as here and link in bio), support me there and read them early.